


Stand up and Rebel

by Salty_Dog



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Trans Character, Violence, apparently, children being sad, heh stealth pun, lotsa OCs, minor terrorism, slums of haven city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Dog/pseuds/Salty_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People were talking about how cute it'd be if kids in Haven looked up to Jak in Jak II and I just had to come and ruin the party.</p><p>A serious of small not too related drabble things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand up and Rebel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [tumblrpostlukerpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/197674) by Lurkerpotato. 



_“You’re all fucking cowards is why.”_ He laughs, a punk kid with a devil may care smirk and bleached to be blond hair. He walks the street like he owns them and by the way the civvies avoid him he thinks he does too. The KG grab him by the shoulders, arrest him, but there’s twenty other boys just like him in the cell.

“Hey, eco freak,” they joke, “aren’t you a bit short to be a renegade?” They laugh. “I’m the punk kid taking you down, me and my slingshot.” “No it’s me, I have a hoverboard.” It’s a big joke and that’s what they say when asked for their identities, “I’m the renegade”. It’d take too long to process each one too much time. One of them is thirteen, one of them is a girl, one of them has an artificial leg, they obviously aren’t the renegade but they don’t care, everyone is still laughing when the dark eco is brought in. It’s the fastest way to check. Then the screaming starts. They process hundreds per day. 

“Congratulations” the baron sounds on the intercom, “we have determined you aren’t the person we’re looking for, you’re free to go.” The kids who can walk do, the others are just thrown out. “But remember,” says the voice as the punk kid walks away, “We’ll be watching you.”

He comes home shaking, body scarred. He had to take off his robotic arm it was fizzing so much. His family screams at him, why, they scream louder when he refuses to dye it back. This is the only way he can help the underground, the only way his family can or will.

 _“You’re all fucking cowards is why.”_ He laughs bitterly, a punk kid with a devil may care smirk and bleached to be blond hair. 

 

* * *

 

She whips her hair behind her. 

“They’re looking for you, so leave.” She doesn’t support the renegade. He’s a thug with a gun and he’ll never amount to anything really. He does present a rare opportunity though; people are taking her more seriously now that he exists. She’s never had her wishes to view the court proceedings granted before, but now she’s in and she can make a difference, make the _right_  decisions. If he dies she’ll go back to square one, and she doesn’t mind telling him so.

“If you die you’ll ruin everything. Just stay out of the way.” She walks off.

But she’s been played, she’s too blinded by opportunity and the idea that she’s pulling a fast one to realize. She’s a child in a room full of adults with much more experience. She doesn’t suspect the manipulation or betrayal and that’s why it works. She’s just another puppet and the council will cut her strings when they are ready, she just doesn’t know it yet.

 

* * *

 

“This way!” A boy waves him over, “I’ve seen them, I  **know**  they never go this way!” Jak follows the kid down the winding alleyway, grateful, he’s running low on ammo. 

Daily routines aren’t a mission to find the eco freak though. They storm down the alley way first thing and Jak has to fight his way through them in the narrow passageways with a shrieking twelve-year-old at his back. If he took the main street he’d have been fine. Jak comes out of it with a few wounds and he turns back to glare at the kid.

“I just wanted to help.” The kid sniffled, wincing at the snarl on Jak’s face.

“Next time,” He says, getting into the kid’s face. “Don’t.” 

He stalks off, blending into the sea of crowds.

 

* * *

 

Jak has shown them just how to be respected, and they slink into the middle of the crowd, gun strapped to their back. 

Violence. 

People scream as the bullets rip through the air, sparks flying as the KG scooter gets hit and then eventually explodes with a burst of flame.

They paid everything for this gun, the transaction probably flagged to be looked at, but it doesn’t matter now, all that matters is just this second. Tired of being ignored, beaten down, rejected, the time for revolution has come and by Mar they will be a part of it. 

The KG ignore some punk blond trying to look like the renegade, they have their hands full with with the kid trying to act like the renegade.

“He’s got a gun!” someone reported.

“They've got a gun!” is the snapped reply as another round of bullets are fired.

“They’re crazy! we gotta get outta here!”, “This lunatic is wrecking all my stuff! arrest them!”, “Have they lost their mind?!” 

They laugh. So this is what it took. Years of people ignoring it, and all it took for some recognition was a lot of bullets and an explosion. 

It was over.

“Get them! We’ve got them surrounded.” 

They dropped to their knees. At least nobody died.

 

* * *

 

 _At least she could do this_ , she thought, halving her fruit with the renegade.

Daxter was tired of the ration bars, they tasted terrible and Jak had to agree, he was tired of them too. So when they got offered some fruit they happily took it without thinking; until they realized that’s all the food she had. They split their ration bar with her. She was too happy at finally having something in her stomach to realize that the two were now going to be left hungrier than if she’d left them alone. She’d realize later and she’d cry, for who was kind nowadays?

No-one did that in Haven. Not anymore.

 

* * *

 

“You can’t do this anymore! Crissie!” He sobs, “Crissie! Just dye your hair back please!” 

“It’s Chris.” He snaps, throwing off his brother’s hand, wrapped in the red metal of the KG uniform.

“Chris! Please!” He shakes him. “I can’t lose you! You don’t know what they’re doing, Chris please just dye your hair back- any colour, cut it short. You can be Chris you can get those weird holodeck cards you like, just stop. I can’t bring you in, I can’t let them do that!” He breaks down, falling to his knees. “Crissie- Chris, please. It’s awful. I can’t save them, but I can save you. Chris. Chris, please.”

His resolve waivers. 

“We’re safe, Chris. I joined the KG so we’d be safe, so our family would be safe. I know, I know the KG is awful but please don’t do this. I can’t handle... if they took you away... Chris it’s worse than what you’re thinking I promise. I love you, all that sappy garbage, please Chris,” He looks into his eyes, “You’re my sister, don’t make them take you in.”

Chris shoves him.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get it at all.” He stalks off.

“Chris! Listen to me!”

“Maybe if you join the resistance I will!”

“Chris!” But he’s already gone, disappeared into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

He was skulking in the shadows behind a building. The KG had flood lights on the bottom of their vehicles. It was clear the renegade needed a place to hide for the night or else he was toast.

“Hey, need help?” Jak nods and the guy doesn’t say anything as he starts to run, Jak following him. He stops short suddenly and Daxter’s claws scrape at Jak’s shoulder plate to stop from being thrown off.

“What are we stopping fo-”

“Pay me.” He sticks out his hand and Jak looks affronted while Daxter opened his mouth. “Do you want the KG to catch you?”

“You’re extorting us?”

“It costs money to get a key.” Jak stares for a long moment before handing over his money.

“Is this it?” Jak grits his teeth, “Fine, but don’t blame me if we’re caught because you’re stingy.” Jak turns out the rest of his pockets before nudging Daxter, who reluctantly passes over what money he has, uncrossing his arms.

He nods, motioning Jak to lean in the shadows before turning around and heading into the light and the door beside it.

“I need a key,” the boy says, putting the money down on the table.

“You got a client,”

“Yeah,” he says, inclining his head to the shadows, not sounding pleased. The man grunts and passes over a key. He returns to Jak without a word and leads him away to a small room, taking a seat.

Jak hovers over by the door and the boy sighs.

“So you’re a-” Jak starts.

“No,” The boy snaps fiercely, “I’m not.”

“Hey, It’s fine we won’t judge or whatever-” Daxter starts saying.

“I’m not a fucking whore” he snarls, “I’m a model.” 

He crosses his arms, not even looking as he gestures around. “This is a studio. Easels back there, sofa, chair, stool, and that’s a stage; don’t let the blanket fool you.” 

Jak sits down on the chair.

“Sorry.” He says. The boy snorts, shaking his head.

“It’s pretty much the same thing. Here at least.”  He gets up, and sits on the stage instead, not looking at them.

“Whadd’ya mean by that?” 

“Means I go to a private room with a stranger, take off my clothes, let them touch me, and pretend I’m somewhere else.” He turns in time to catch the mixed reception. “Relax, I’m kidding. It’s all above board. Been doing this for a while.” He got up and stretched, “They have all those kids painted on the side of churches, all trussed up to look like angels. I’m one of them, take a look, this body might be up there, a younger version of it.”  He stuck a pose. 

“Then they move you where they want.” He grabbed his hand posing himself a bit more dramatically. 

“Wow.” Daxter said, tilting his head. “You’re pretty flexible, doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yep,” he said simply. “And you stay like that till they tell you otherwise.” 

“Sounds like an alright job.” Jak said. The boy shook his head.

“If you’re lucky and have youth on your side. I’m too old for most of their  _tastes_.” he stopped posing. “Don’t let me lie to you, kid. The job’s only clean because they aren’t allowed to do anything much to you. They like to fool themselves that it’s art and their ever so high opinion of themselves but it’s all about your body and even a kid will understand when someone’s touching them for too long and breathing too hard.” He rolled his shoulder. “The women are worse, by the way.”

“You have girls doing that? Are they hot?” Daxter piped, Jak went to smack him.

“Some of them are attractive,” He said, “But it doesn’t hide how disgusting they look after.” He sat down, putting his head in his hands. “And once you start getting older the orders stop coming in and if you’re lucky you get bought, I wasn’t.” He smirked, “apparently I have a bad personality. And I know my face isn’t cute because they never even fucking looked at it, let alone drew it.”

He shook his head. “In a year you’d have been right. Nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I’d wanted to be a thug instead of taking the easy job. Learn from my mistakes, renegade; know what you’re getting into.”

“Hey-”

“Shut up.” He recognized the tone. “I don’t want your pity.” he draped the blanket around himself. “Take the couch to sleep. I’m fine here.”

After a few seconds Jak went to the couch and Daxter turned off the light before settling down himself.

“What did you wanna be,” Daxter piped up, “in your childhood dream?” There was a long pause.

“A dancer.” it was said wistfully.

“You could-”

“Shut up or I’ll call the fucking guard.” He snarled. It was a long while before he went to sleep.

He woke up alone in the studio, piece of paper beside him.

“Thanks for the save.” And under it in a more erratic scribble, “Get us tickets to the biggest dance hall when you get there.” The rest was taken up by a drawing of his face. It wasn’t bad. There were more drawing crumpled up on the ground, trying to draw him as a dancer, the faces on all of them were fine but the rest was shit. He laughed. He picked them up, stuffing them into his bag before he left to return the key, spring in his step. 

Toe, heel, turn, and a step back, he might think about it.

 

* * *

 

Jak took a step back and turned, shoving the kid about to throw a rock at a Krimson guard into a ditch and ducking as shots fired over his head.

“Hey! I’m trying to fight here!” Jak shouted.

“So am I!” The kid shouted back, trying to struggle and climb out.

“No, You’re trying to die.”

“I’m fighting like you!” And Jak turned away, fleeing the scene. He could hear the kid yelling but that wasn’t right. Jak wasn’t that reckless. He shoved a KG off a zoomer and gunned it, driving off at breakneck speed. 

Well... He at least knew he could handle himself. 

 

* * *

 

As a KG you can’t let emotions get in the way; You have to know how to handle yourself. And when he sees a short blond waiting in front of a door he knows he can’t anymore.

“Dye your hair, kid.”

“What?”

“It’s not worth it. Whatever respect you think you’re going to get with whatever stupid gang by looking like the renegade isn’t worth it.” He hasn’t been able to for a while, he’s been ignoring every blonde haired brat. He won’t bring them in. He can’t. “It’s not worth it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He slams his and on the wall and the kid gets into a defensive stance.

“You don’t know what happens, what happens to the obnoxious twerps like you who think they’re so tough. They get brought in and they don’t come out anymore. They just don’t come back.” His voice cracks and its audible behind the voice augmentation of his mask. “You can’t stop them. I can’t, couldn't.”

He can’t keep it up. He needs to save one. Just one. Anyone.

“They took my s-” He choked. “My stupid brother. My stupid annoying little brother. They knew it wasn’t him but they did it anyway. He dyed his hair to look like the renegade and they took him and I couldn’t stop them and now he’s gone and I can’t find him anymore.” He cried, leaning in on the wall and shielding his face. “Save yourself. For the love of anything, save yourself.”

“I can’t.” The blond said, and he crumpled, sliding down the wall to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.

“Why?” He looked up into the teenager’s face, pleading.

“Because it’s the right thing.” The kid shuffled around, tense. “I don’t plan on going to prison, I’m going to live and stick it to the Baron. This is how i’m going to do it.”

He rubbed his face. Were kids always this stubborn? Was he when he decided to join the guard?

“That’s stupid,” he said, getting back to his feet. The boy glared. 

The KG radio crackled to life.

“Warning, the renegade suspected to be in sector nine, what’s your status.” they stared at each other and the boy tensed up; ready to strike.

“Nothing to report.” And he turned and started to leave.

“What if I’m the renegade?” He called to him.

“Fuck the baron.” 

The rodent on the boy’s shoulder cheered

“This is a no hoverboard zone!” he snapped as the kid rode past him. He shook his head watching them head down the street. “I quit.”

 

* * *

 

She faced down Jak with grim determination. Stopping him from passing her.

“Who put a wumpbee in your bonnet.” Daxter sassed.

“I joined the Freedom league because of you.” She said, getting straight to the point.

“Oh! You got a fan, Jak!” He grinned, “me too right?”

“I joined the KG to stop people like you.” She loomed over him. “My sister was conscripted into them, as I was when she died.” Her fists clenched. “When you killed her.”

“Hold up there-”

“I’m not going to break the law.” she hissed. “I’m not you. but when you do break the law again, and you will, I’ll kill you myself.” She turned her back on them and walked off. “People like you always will, and this time I’ll be here to put you down.”


End file.
